I showed him the telegram she’d sent. “I’m the one she came to see,” I said. “Here’s her telegram telling me to meet her here at the earliest possible moment.”

The clerk hesitated a moment, then nodded to the telephone operator. “You may ring,” he said.

A moment later, the operator said, “You may go up, Mr. Lam. Room 319.”

I took the elevator to the third floor, knocked on the door of 319, and Bertha Cool said, “Come in. God damn it, don’t stand out there making a racket.”

I turned the knob and opened the door. She was propped up in bed. A wet towel was wrapped around her forehead. There was no make-up on her face. The muscles sagged down, pulling her lips down at the corners, emphasizing her battleship jaw.

“Donald,” she asked, “did you ever ride in an airplane?”

I nodded.

“Did you get seasick?”

“No.”

“I did,” she said. “My God I thought that damn plane would never get here. Donald, my love, what the hell have you been doing?”

“Various things,” I said.

“I’ll say you have! You’ve been giving the agency a lot of publicity.”

I found myself a chair and dropped into it.

“No, not there, Donald. It hurts to turn my head. Come over here and sit on the foot of the bed—there, that’s better. Donald, are you in love with that girl?”

“Yes.”

“Did you do this because you loved her?”

“Partially,” I said, “and partially because I couldn’t resist the temptation to blow up some of the smug legal theories entertained by a lot of mossback lawyers. The grievance committee said my idea a bombproof murder could be committed was an indication I didn’t have a very good foundation in my legal education. They didn’t bother to find out what the scheme was, but, just because they thought a man couldn’t commit a murder and beat the rap legally, they figured I was wrong in saying he could. I wanted to show ’em. If they hadn’t suspended me from the bar, I’d have made a name for myself before this.”

“Do you know any more tricks like that?” she asked.

“Lots of them,” I said.

“Donald, my lamb, light a cigarette and put it between my lips.” I lit the cigarette, put it in between the heavy lips. She sucked in a deep drag, and said, “You and I can go a long way together. You’ve got brains—you little runt. But you’ve got to get over being so impulsive and so damn chivalrous. My God, Donald, at your age you’re going to fall in love and bounce back out again a dozen times before you settle down to one woman. You mark my words, Donald. I know. But you have a fine mind, Donald, my love. You’re a jewel—how the hell did you know what had happened, Donald?”